


Revelations

by Sgladiate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sgladiate/pseuds/Sgladiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because of the life that I lead, I just think that it's better to not be with someone that I could really care about."</p><p>It has always been Oliver whose actions were steered by the need to protect the bubbly IT-girl. Yet what happens when it's Felicity's turn to do whatever she can to keep him safe, even if it means going against her own rules?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She didn't fall in love with him straight away. At first, beginning with his unexpected appearance in her little office, he came to fascinate her. When she found out he was the city's vigilante, laying on her car's back seat, the fascination started to mix with apprehension. Reason told to leave it at that, he killed people and she'd voluntarily be walking into a territory that was far from harmless.

_Did she listen?_

Of course not, instead she began spending her nights surrounded by his presence when he wasn't swinging arrows into wrong doers, and the fascination decidedly grew.

Oliver wasn't the world's most elaborative speaker, he didn't share much of his past especially the island parts, but when he did, she listened. He told her about Shado and how in her memory he wore the suit he did, he told her how nothing good ever happened there. She locked it all to memory as well the little things he did, how he would spend hours with the salmon ladder every time he had some frustration to burn off or how his lips would turn upwards when he'd mention Thea. All those things slowly crept up on her. She didn't know when exactly or how, but they did. Before she knew it, she was in love with Oliver Queen.

She was sure he had noticed how flustered she would become every time he would lean in close when she was explaining something on the computer screen, or noticed her staring when he walked around shirtless. And he did that a _lot_. Those reactions were beyond her control but he didn't seem to think anything of them and she treasured the thought; she didn't want their friendship to take a turn to awkward-land.

Apparently not everybody was as imperceptive as him, they found her actions a notch more obvious. Moira had no problem pointing it out to her face. Barry only asked, but the question remained.

* * *

He was haunted by demons, that much was obvious. Since she had known him, he had always had trouble sleeping, still relieving the nightmares of the island. She knew that, often seeing dark circles under his eyes and sprawled mats and weapons he forgot to put away after a sleepless night. What she also knew, was that she took one hell of a risk telling him about Thea's paternity. She was scared the extra load placed on his shoulders would make an inevitable damage, but their friendship was built on a cornerstone of honesty and so she didn't want to let that go.

 _Was that selfishness?_  She liked to think that she was simply placing the blow now, rather than letting someone else do it later. She watched the relationship with his mother crumble and him bury himself even darker place than before, but never blaming her in the process.

So when he got together with Sara, she was happy, as much as it stung to see them sharing a passionate kiss by the sparring mats or holding hands when they entered the Foundry, she really was glad. The two had history that nobody could deny and she hoped that this would make it easier for Oliver to open up, even if it was with Sara and not her.

Sara was lively and easy to get along with. She had no problem chatting with her when the boys were busy expanding their bruise collections, whether it was about an upcoming mission or a film that was soon to show in the cinema. In fact she welcomed the female company; for a change she wasn't the only one nagging about the alluring properties of a quick shower session after a workout, in the hope she wouldn't have to sit in an area that smelled worse than a changing room full of college boys.

* * *

Three days ago they realised the trail of bodies across the city wasn't just the work of random madman. To be honest, nobody would even have thought to blame the real culprit as to everyone's information he should have been dead. Oliver told them how blood poured from under Slade's closed lids as he took in his last breath and she had no reason to question his words. Then again, people from his past had the tendency to come back from the dead so maybe it'd be wise start asking for more details than the meagre he tended to provide.

Oliver went after every lead she managed to get, each day coming back empty handed. Slade always managed to stay two steps ahead of them, making Oliver ornery and ready to lash out at anybody in his close proximity, yesterday it being her turn.

"Slade must have obscured the signal, making it appear that the security camera that registered him was from another location, the one I picked up," she explained after he walked into the lair.

"I would really appreciate it Felicity, if you'd double check the details before sending me off half way across the city, when he's clearly not there. We can't do things half way here." he snapped, throwing his quiver onto the ground. Before she had the chance to retort, he was gone.

Diggle told her to pay him no attention since he clearly didn't mean it, and she petulantly nodded her head. Yet his words still stung.

When Laurel was taken the next day, she couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes.

Sara was a ball of nerves, a permanent scowl taking residence on her face as she awaited some sort of news. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long; a series of tip offs lead them to the east side of Glades. Sara and Oliver rushed off, speeding the roads on their motorcycles eager to get the ex-attorney out whilst she told them the directions over the comms.

"Keep going straight, after ten miles you should see an old factory on your right -  _hold on_.."

"What's going on?" asked Oliver

"Sorry, I've got an incoming call, it's from Thea" she answered, quizzically staring at the phone screen. She pressed the answer button.

"Hello?"

" _Somebody help me!_ " a sob escaped the line. Her breathing quickened.

"Thea?! Where are you?"

" You have an hour or… or-" Thea's voice quivered, " _or_  you'll be searching the city for my  _body parts",_  the last two words were barely a whisper. The line went dead.

* * *

Oliver let out a roar. A loud thump behind her told her Roy's fist just collided with the Foundry wall. She could hear Diggle telling the boy to focus, whilst she frantically pressed the keyboard keys. After getting Thea's last location she went through any footage that could let some light on where she was now.

Fifteen minutes later, she was reciting the address to Oliver. She heard his bike brake with a skid, as he turned the other way.

"Oliver, Roy and Diggle have just left.  _Wait for them._ "

Silence greeted her back.

" _Oliver_ " she repeated. "I'm serious, I know it's your sister, but you can't help her if you get hurt. It's a suicide mission if you go alone."

"It's _Thea, Felicity_! I have to go, to end it once and for all."

"Don't you get it? It was his plan all along! Eliminating all the others to get you by yourself," she took a breath."Don't go." she was pleading now.

"I'll be fine" he brushed her off.

As if, twelve minutes later the comms were cut off. Somehow, Slade or whomever else that was working for him managed to override her system.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, both the enemy and herself for not doing a better job at securing the network.  _And to think she was good._  Tapping her fingers, she wondered what next. She stared straight ahead at their medicine cabinet in thought. She recalled Barry listing the names of the bottles inside, one of them being benzodiazepine.  _Would that work?_  She got up from her swivel chair and ran towards it, grabbing enough to knock out a horse. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it, after all who knew how a mirakuru injected man would react to the drug, and if it were to leave him unfazed, well, let just say she'd rather not imagine what then.

* * *

She parked her mini a distance away from the warehouse, to stop the noisy engine ruining her goal of being unseen. They were at the docks, completely secluded.  _Just the perfect place for holding teenage girls and luring in their big brothers._

She conquered the space running, leaving her face flushed and her heart racing. She decided she'd have to reconsider renewing the gym membership she spent so long trying to get out of.

She ran towards the back, circling the perimeter, in search of a way in other than the main door. She hated not being able to keep tabs them. She slowed down. Glancing at her tablet, she realised the signals from their phones continued to be nothing but useless; constantly jumping back and forth as if something was deflecting them.

Eventually she found herself in an area so dark she had to use her tablet to lit the way, she saw a door with peeling blue paint, partly out of it's hinges. She trudged towards it, hoping this was her pot of gold. Pulling it back, it rattled as the hinge completely broke, and she sighed in relief. She pushed the weight of the door off her body so it would rest against the building wall and entered inside.

The smell of dry rot washed washed over her.

The space was stacked with boxes and tins. The black arches above her held lines of wire with bulbs at the other end, some of them working, most of them not. Those which did, were at brink of dying. The lights flickered, and she blew out a deep breath.  _Relax_.

She moved swiftly, her gait light. She was somewhat disorientated at how quiet it was; she was expecting to hear the others if not fighting then at least negotiating, and instead she was met with this  _deadly_  silence.

It did not bode well.

* * *

A grunt of pain reached her ears at which she scrambled to her knees, her body hid behind a pillar. Something hit the floor and she breathed in sharply, pulling her arms to her torso, completely stilling. She waited for a few seconds, but when she heard no signs of anything too close to her, she dared to have a peek.

A giant man with his back to her, held Oliver in a headlock whilst Diggle lay on the ground unconscious, his face bruised and his lip split. Behind them, Thea was tied up to a chair.

She sighed, now was probably the time. Stretching her legs which felt very much like logs, she reached out for the syringe she was hoping would save them all, tucking it into her hand and abandoning her tablet for the time being. She got up and Thea's eyes widened slightly when she saw her. She shook her head to let her know to be quiet.

Slade threw Oliver against a nearby wall, and couldn't help by flinch. She heard Thea gasp. The damage inflicted to his body by Slade's inhuman strength wasn't hard to miss.  _It will be hell trying to get that sorted._ She didn't see Roy anywhere,  _where the heck is he?_  She took a deep breath as she neared their nemesis, her steps deliberately slow and steady.

"Stay down kiddo, or they both dead" Slade said, swinging his gun from Diggle to Thea, his eyes strained on Oliver.

Her breath hitched in her throat. No.. Her breaths came out shallow.

She met Oliver's eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion. She saw panic set in his face and realised it was because she wasn't supposed to be here.

'Now brother, we all knew it would have to end like this -" he gestured the pistol to Thea's head.  _One… Two… Three…_  She was close to hyperventilating.

"- killing you would be a release that you don't deserve. I want you to live with knowing that again you have failed those who you held close. So who will it be?  _Sister_  or  _best friend_?"

Her hands shook so hard the syringe clenched inside her fist began falling. The moment it clacked against the concrete floor, all heads turned her way but she only saw one.

His face was older and held varying shades of grey.  _How could they not? Eighteen years was by no means a walk in the park._

An almost hysterical laugh escaped her lips. Blood rushed to her head, clouding her vision.

"Felicity ," she heard Oliver's voice as if it were underwater. Yet, it did the trick and she once again focused on the man in front of her.

Her chest heaved.

" _Dad_ " she rasped. The words tasted sour on her lips.

She was numb. She blinked to clear her vision from the tears she didn't even realise she was shedding, and looked at him again. Frozen and white as a sheet of paper.

An arrow cut through the air, breaking the unmoving image. And then he was falling.

* * *

He was in and out consciousness, his entire body restrained. It looked like a medieval torture device.  _Where did they get that from?_ She tried to think back to her history class, and the only name that seemed fitting was 'iron maiden', _maybe that's it then_.

The metal chamber from one side was filled with spikes, far enough from him to keep it pain free but with enough proximity to make it highly uncomfortable if he decided to move. Someone placed it in the middle of the Foundry, almost like a panopticon except the watchtower in this case was where Slade was.

She didn't remember getting back to the lair. Her attention, unwavering remained solely on the man whose chest got pierced with an arrow.

At some point Sara returned and informed them Laurel was alright albeit a bit shaken, then silently pulled on her gloves and went to Diggle's workplace. Together they examined their supplies, contemplating what cocktail of drugs would keep their prisoner languid before a decision was made involving his foreseeable future.

She stood in far off corner unmoving.

"Get me out of here Meghan," Slade slurred in his drugged up state.

Her whole body tensed. When she got the courage to shift her gaze to his face, his eyes were closed.

He left her when she was eight and the first thing he says to her after all this time is to get him out. No apologies, no words of regret but already a request. This wasn't her father, it wasn't. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, childishly hoping if she said them enough times, they'd come true.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she didn't have to look up to know who it was. He didn't say anything, only held it there for some time, slowly rubbing circles in silent comfort.

Oliver then slipped outside, while she continued to watch. He had to be there for Thea.

Some time later something tugged her shoulder. It was Diggle. She had no idea how long he stood by her side.

"Come on, I'll drive you home."

Diggle's concerned expression left her compelled to agree.

* * *

Freezing water poured over her head but she didn't care. Grabbing a body brush, she forcefully scrubbed her body clean as if the hard bristles could remove the emptiness that settled in her mind. She was reunited with her father, yet she felt more alone than she had in years. The shower helped, but not quite.

She glanced at her reflection. There were shadows under her eyes she wasn't surprised to see. Then her focus travelled lower down, landing on her nose. As a child she was repeatedly told she had her dad's nose. She wrinkled it in distaste. Wrapping a cream towel around her water dripping body, she headed towards her freezer.  _What better time than now for some ice cream therapy?_  An image of Slade holding his gun flashed in her mind. She ignored it and reached for a spoon.

Regardless of how many spoonfuls of chocolate mint she pampered her tastebuds with, the taste remained insipid and the image in her head refused to disappear.  _What was he doing on that island?_ She took another spoonful anyway.  _Why did he leave?_ She shoved the ice-cream box away and it toppled to the floor. Deciding she'd clean it later, she walked towards some of the disregarded clothing on the floor. She picked the first few items closest to her feet and cursed each time she failed to put her arm in the sleeve. Her hair still wet, she stumbled out of the door.

* * *

Her hand instinctively travelled up to switch the lights on but there was no need. Sara and Diggle were still there.

"Hey", Sara greeted softly.

"He's going to be out of it for some time. So go home, all of you", she said in return, her voice was firm.

"Felicity-" Diggle gently began.

"No." Flinching at how harsh she sounded, she started again. 'Please, I need some time here alone, with him. Even though he's unconscious, and it's stupid, I just need to be alone."

Uncertainty remained painted on Diggle's face.

"Fine, but we'll be back in few hours and at any sign out of trouble, you call us and get out. Understood?"

'Yes, thank you'.

She watched as they grabbed their jackets and headed for the stairs. Diggle turned around to send her a pointed look and she smiled faintly. He was like a big brother she never had. In the two years they have known each other, he had shown her more concern than she received from either of her parents.

She ended up sitting in her usual chair, and eventually powered up her computer screen. She spend years trying to find the smallest of clues that would at least tell her if he was dead or not, but there was never anything. No police records, no bank accounts in his former name. Nothing. Yet now that she knew all the things Oliver told her, she had a reasonable chance of filling in the blanks.

Two hours later, she was still encrypting codes, and writing her own ones. Australian Secret Intelligence files were a bitch to hack, but she was determined.

"God knows I deserve some answers" she muttered to herself.

"I don't doubt that," a thick, Australian accent echoed through the basement.

Felicity jumped, nearly falling off her chair. She swiveled herself around to face him.  _How did he get out? Was it all a part of some sick game; pretend to be harmless as a cheese ball to get to be alone with her?_

"Don't you dare come near me." she warned, her finger carefully treading over her phone's speed dial button.

"Do you really think child, he won't use you as a leverage against me?" Words of a deranged man.  _Was Oliver all he thought about?_ Apparently so, even as she stood in front of him after all those years.

"No, he's not  _you_." she said steadily. " _And,_  You lost the right to call me that the minute you walked out on your family", her voice went up a pitch.

"I had no choice"

"There's  _always_  a choice"

"Not in that case",

"So I'm supposed to just accept that like you accepted it when Oliver told you he couldn't have saved Shado?"

Anger suddenly bubbled up to the surface of his eyes, but died down just as quickly.

"Come with me" he whispered.

"What?" frustration filled her voice. She must have misheard him.

"I promise you, if leave with me, I will not touch Oliver nor any of his friends. I will forget about that kid. He'll be a ghost from the past, but I need you to come with me"

She was rendered speechless.


	2. Chapter 2

It was quarter to three in the morning, and Felicity found herself wondering to an empty playground, the shapes of seesaws and merry-go-rounds illuminated by the moon's light. She scurried away from the Foundry, leaving Slade inside after their brief yet emotionally drenching face to face encounter.

She said she needed time, and when he merely nodded she was mildly astonished. As far as fiery tempers went, from what she gathered so far, his happened to be particularly bad. She expected that he'll go for 'take it or leave it; five seconds remaining' approach. Instead, he told her to take her time. She huffed at that, but otherwise remained silent.

Felicity slowly sat down on the swing in the middle of the play area. She doubted anyone bothered to check if Slade was still inside his prison. As far as they knew, he was still too heavily sedated to try anything. She had no clue whether he would remain there or wonder off, but what she did know was that she would be seeing him soon.  _Granted a choice, but was it really?_ You could hardly call the ultimatum needing a decision that would leave you pondering for hours, wondering if it is the right one.

She swung her legs up and the swing pushed through the air. She realised that although she would be saving Oliver, she would lose him too. Her eyes welled with tears at the thought. She was proving pretty useless in her recent attempts at tracking Oliver's nemeses and keeping the team under the radar so maybe everybody would see some good sides of the situation.

Felicity stayed on the swing for few more minutes, her thoughts galloping just like the breeze through her hair, letting loose strands escape her ponytail.  _Where would he take her?_ She didn't know what to expect; more god forsaken islands to which everything seemed to always bounce back to, or what you could call a completely normal life if you squinted really hard? A single tear of frustration rolled down her cheek.

"I got what I always wanted, huh?" Only some part of her screamed she didn't. The faint memories she had of her father from before hadn't left her prepared for the return of a man that was willing to take what really mattered to her, and place it far from her reach. Oliver promised her the day she revealed Moira's secret, that she wouldn't lose him. How funny the world was; turns out her fear of not having him in her life, even on purely platonic basis, would be brought true by her. She pushed her cute panda shoes through the dirt, bringing the swing to an abrupt stop.

She left the swing and wandered off to the main road where even at this time she had no trouble catching a cab. With Slade creeping up on her, she completely forgot to grab her tablet. Once back in the Foundry, she silently thanked whoever was listening that Slade wasn't inside. She examined the place, taking it all in. Who knew when she would have another chance to see it all? She never would have thought that she'd have to part with her beloved computers or the mats that supplied her with better fighting sequences than even Game of Thrones had to offer. Or that salmon ladder which was definitely her favourite.

Once she narrowed down her missing object, she went back to the parking lot to retrieve her car. She had to focus on the hard task ahead of her. Saying goodbyes.

She dialled his number several times.  _Nothing_. She scrunched her eyebrows together. One more time. Oliver's too chirpy voice informed her he was unavailable and to try later.  _Stupid voicemail._ She threw her phone to the passenger seat and brought out her tablet. If he wasn't going to pick up, she would go about it another way. Few minutes later, she managed to trace the signal from his phone. Queen Consolidated. Now, she really wouldn't have thought to look for him there, this early. She decided that for whatever reason he was there, he wouldn't be leaving for a while. She reversed her car and headed towards the local car rental.

* * *

The clicking of her stilettos accompanied the speech she kept on rehearsing in her head as she walked down the corridor leading to his office. The words were subtle enough to refrain from giving too much away, but at the same time enough that he'd understand how much he matters to her.

She stopped around a corner, his office in in front of her. The glass walls gave her a view of his sinew back, enough to tell her how tense he was. Taking the time to compose herself as he remained unaware of her presence, she tried to write the little details to memory. How he held himself as he stood facing the window or the way the shirt hugged his biceps, his tie loose.

" _Oliver_ " she said, announcing herself, yet for some reason rather than seeing him relax like he would normally, his shoulders tensed more than they were already.

"What are you doing here?" his tone hiding not so well a hint of annoyance.

When the words registered, she too felt rather annoyed. He was ignoring her phone calls for the last few hours and retreated to a spot, in which he hoped he wouldn't have to face her. Then it clicked.

Felicity grabbed his arm.

"'You  _coward_! You're avoiding me because you think I  _blame you_?"

"How could you not, Felicity?!" he shouted. "I'm the reason he's what he is.  _I_  was the one to inject him with mirakuru."

She was stunned to silence. Yet she knew from what he told her before that they were close as brothers. The logical part of her brain tugged that that he'd probably had no other choice.

"I trust you, Oliver. There must have been a good reason"

"He was going to die", he stated matter-of-factly, his eyes glazed over as if he was reminiscing a distant memory.

She closed the remaining distance between them. Unblinking and gazing into his eyes, she stood up on her tiptoes.

"But it doesn't change much now, does it? I took your dad from you", he continued unruffled.

"No Oliver, he was gone before he ever even got the chance to meet you," she murmured.

She leaned in to quickly kiss Oliver's cheek. Instead, her lips involuntarily landed on the corner of his; somewhat touching the skin around them but mostly placed on the softness of his lips. They were warm and inviting. Before she could talk herself out it, she shifted and laid one last kiss whilst he remained unmoving, this time directly in the center. A second ticked by before he responded, tugging her lip causing her to let out a moan. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She grabbed the hem of his jacket not wanting him to leave.

Slowly, she pulled away breathless. His eyes were closed. It was better than anything she had ever imagined.

"I'm just glad you're not any taller or I'd have to get out a ladder", she attempted to joke to dissolve the tension that arose in the room, yet her voice came out sounding lugubrious.

She could feel her cheeks turning reddening. He wasn't helping; he turned mute. His gaze met hers and was so intense she felt her knees quiver.

"I'll better go." She turned on her heel and nearly ran out the nearest exit.

"Felicity,  _wait_!' His hoarse voice loomed behind her, but she didn't stop.

* * *

She was supposed to say goodbye, close a chapter of her life, despite how wonderful, yet she she did the opposite; allowing her so well hidden till now feelings to resurface, letting him have a glimpse.

The heart wrenching moment when she looked into his eyes, realising she wouldn't be seeing them again propelled her to kiss him. She kissed Oliver Queen. And he kissed her back. Yet, shouldn't have done that, she really shouldn't.

It didn't matter now.

Her fingers turned white as she clenched the steering wheel a bit too hard. Slade called her when she drove away from QC, her thoughts so busy circling around Oliver, she had trouble forming coherent responses. She didn't know whether to beg him to leave her and her friends alone or ask for more details as to where they would be heading,. After a moment of silence she blurted out a mere  _'yes_ '. Yes, she'd would leave her life behind for the man she wasn't meant to fall in love with. Slade told her to stop at a roadside inn, twenty miles north from Starling City. That's where the instructions ended.

She still had to head home.

Fifteen minutes later, she half heatedly packed whatever she thought she would need the most; garments of underwear, few pairs of shoes and other necessities along with any equipment that she might for some reason require. Whilst packing all her cables a sudden realisation hit her. She had no photos of those she would be leaving behind. No Oliver, no Diggle. It would be as if the past two years never happened. She cursed, profanities so awful they would make a nun blush.

* * *

Felicity pinched her nose as the smell of sweat and vinegar occupying the car hit her nostrils. It was the only available vehicle that she could be offered at such short notice apparently. Sighing, she reached hand for the radio, hoping some lyrics would soothe her jittering nerves. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous; after all it was only her father, injected with a drug that occasionally led to psychotic episodes which involved swinging a loaded gun at the people she cared about.  _Who_  was only about to take her out to the unknown. Certainly, nothing she couldn't handle.

Tunes of  _'I want to break free'_  filled the tiny car. She groaned.

Cars sped past her in a blur. The whole hour she spent driving passed far too quickly. She could feel her freedom spilling through her fingers the closer she got to her destination, filling her with dread.

She refused to write a long letter filled with apologies and regrets. Instead she opted for a few lines explaining she felt the need to catch up with her father, so she would appreciate if everyone let them be. She omitted the part where she mentions that she was forced to leave in order to protect him. He'd come to resent her and that she could live with. However, if she put anything else down, she knew Oliver would blame himself; for what in particular, she wasn't sure but he would think of something. Not killing Slade when he had the chance, giving him mirakuru, not telling him the truth or something along those lines if not all together. That guilt would would be a road to self destruction; finding a way to bring down Slade at the cost of his own life. Once again she had no choice; she had to keep him in the dark.

Her phone rang for the fifth time. Oliver Queen. Sighing, she pressed ignore. A second passed

and her phone beeped.

_Where are you?_

* * *

The food in front of her was untouched, she could only bring herself to take an occasional sip of the strongly brewed coffee. She let out a yawn. The longer she sat in the uncomfortable stool, the more she realised how tired she was. Slade told her that he'd meet her at half past seven, but seconds ticked by and he still wasn't to be seen.

She took a last sip of her now lukewarm drink, wondering what the hell she was doing.

The loud chatter around her transformed to hushed whispers. Across the room, a man of impending posture and with an eye-patch headed her way.

* * *

** Eight days later. **

She awoke to coldness, head pounding, eyelids flattering. Bright light hit her uncovered pupils, making her squirm. Blinking away the blurriness, she attempted to follow the source of her discomfort.

A miniature window, half a meter in width and height, and stream of sunlight rays; irritating as a prolonged exposure to intense copier light. _Where was she?_

Her body lay horizontally, and her head was positioned on something soft. Slowly, she directed her gaze downwards, confirming her earlier thoughts. Definitely a bed. Deciding to get on with it, she gathered the will to move and head towards the window.

Couple of seconds later, she continued to lay unmoving. A flash of blind panic enveloped her brain, causing her breaths to come out quick and shallow. _Why couldn't she move?_

* * *

What was she goddamn thinking? She owned him at least a face to face explanation, not a note and a kiss with a hidden meaning.

Fuming with anger, he threw a drug dealer onto the ground.

She took their prisoner and let him escape. The part of him that screamed that she was justified to do what she did, Oliver chose to ignore. Anger was easier to focus on.

He lifted his bow and pointed it at the man in front of him, aiming at the heart.

When he first read that she needed to catch up with her father, he expected a couple of days the most; then for her to return. Without Slade of course, he knew Felicity; she had a heart of gold and whatever her father was, she had to give him a chance. He could accept that, but what he couldn't was her gone from his life.

Remembering how much she didn't want him to break his promise to Tommy, he lowered his weapon.

"This is your  _last_ warning", Oliver growled, before leaping onto a rooftop.

Her predilection for honesty with him concerned, meant he hardly expected her to vanish just like that. Yet, wrath wasn't all he felt. He didn't want to even think about it, but with what Slade was, he was concerned for her safety. Father or not, she was walking on eggshells. Worst part; he wasn't sure she knew and so he feared that her lack of brain-to-mouth filter which he liked so much about her, could land her in trouble. He hoped Slade could still be the man he was before Mirakuru; for Felicity's sake.

* * *

The second time she awoke, a man stood by her feet.

"Don't fret Meghan. I realise this must be highly unpleasant, but I promise you that you'll thank me in the end", said Slade, his voice calm and thick with confidence.

She wanted to shout and tell him he lost his mind, yet no voice came out. _What did he do to her?_

She closed her eyes in defeat. She didn't hear his voice again that day.

* * *

Eventually the team managed to set up all the computer searches they needed. Days turned to nights, and they were still running.

No security footage, no changes to bank accounts, no nothing. Despite it not bearing any fruit, Oliver refused to yield. He chased every blind lead, each leaving him more desperate than the one before.

* * *

"You remember Ivo?" When she didn't give him any kind of acknowledgement, he continued. "The scientist so desperate to find Mirakuru that it cost him his life. Well, not quite. Oliver, didn't tell you the whole truth you see. As you probably heard already, he was very much embraced with the idea of finding a cure for his dear wife. Eventually when he realised his chances of getting his hands on Mirakuru were close to none, he began conducting his own research which lead him to make his own drug."

Slade smirked.

"Poor fellow, didn't realise till very end that what he made didn't quite resemble the drug he spent years searching for. What he made, was quite different." He paused and walked up to her tiny window.

"It wasn't Mirakuru that killed him; it was the drug he invented - or more so, the people who he injected with the new discovery. The discovery that now flows through your veins with just a few tiny adjustments, courtesy of the brilliant scientist working for me."

* * *

** Four months later **

Slade Wilson won. He wasn't sure whether it was all part of a cunning plan, but by taking Felicity he fulfilled his promise. The despair he felt with her gone was crippling. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. Four months with her gone, he received a letter. At first he didn't realise what it was. He just shuffled it like everything else onto a pile of correspondence he hadn't bothered to open.

Three days later, by a stroke of luck or maybe simply as a result of his sister having had enough, he was told to "get a grip". Her remedy consisted of handing him a pile of letters, muttering it was a good enough place to start.

Randomly selecting a letter, Oliver realised it was the one he was sent a couple of days ago - he remembered as there was something odd about the envelope but at the time he couldn't pinpoint what. Three days ago, he decided it was his lack of sleep that conjured up the unexplainable feeling he got when he held it in his hand, but now he wasn't so sure. Looking down at the block capitals spelling out his name, he realised there was a slight slant to them. Staring, his heart rate accelerated. Only one person he knew wrote their 'Q's like that; curling the vertical tail so beautifully that he often had a laugh, telling her she missed her vocation by not becoming a calligrapher.

"Felicity", the name escaped his lips as he hastily teared down the envelope.

* * *

She came to hate him, although she wondered if the verb truly described the intensity of her feeling. Loath. Detest. None of them did. Sure, they worked when he left her as a kid, but what he did to her as of late, that was something else.

When he asked her to go with him, she thought she could learn to forget these feelings and start anew. But, she never got the chance. Instead, a couple of hours after stepping into his black, gull-winged sport's car, she felt a prick on her neck and the world dissolved into blackness. When she woke up again, she was in a tiny cell. She still had no idea how long she spent in there, but she definitely knew that the person who was inside it now was no longer the same person that went in whenever that was.

Or rather, was  _carried_ _in._

* * *

With somewhat shaking hands, he unfolded the letter.

_Oliver,_

_I want to think that you don't condemn my decision, but I know you better than that. I'm sorry for the four times towards the end that I told you nothing would change._

He paused, what four times? He couldn't recall ever having such conversation with Felicity. He decided to dwell on that later.

_I guess I was wrong. Andrew Forster wrote about horses when reminiscing the old way of life, but I'm terrible with imagery, so I'll put it plainly as it's my second attempt already and clearly I was never born a writer. So whatever you must think, please know that the time I spent with You and the team, meant a world to me. It'll forever stay as one of my fondest memories, but it was time I moved on. Be safe Oliver and try to forget me._

_F. Smoak._

He turned the letter to the other side. Nothing. He started to laugh. This was all she had to say? Seven lines, not including his name or hers, which left him as clueless as before. Although, only now he realised she didn't want to be found.

 _Try to forget me._ And how was he to do that?

 Felicity and Diggle's presence was what brought him back to the land of living. It was her who kept him sane when the memories of the island threatened to overwhelm him. It was her who saw good in him, when no one else did. She was his lighthouse in the midst of a storm.  How could he even try to forget her? The whole damn letter barely sounded like Felicity. He threw a punch at the wall in front of him, staining the adorned with patterns wallpaper with his blood. Ignoring the throbbing pain, he picked his phone and called Diggle.

"Foundry. In ten." he said, not caring how cold his voice sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. :-) Any thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

Her days constituted of bursts of fleeting awareness that would then fade to oblivion; sleep, slumber or unconsciousness, she wasn't sure. She wished she could call these periods comforting, but if the oblivion were to be put on a scale with reality to determine which would outweigh the other, she wasn't sure what the result would be.

Not knowing how much time passed when she was out of it, or the thoughts circling her head when she wasn't, both seemed equally as depressing.

 

* * *

 

 

After a while, the length of time for which her eyes could stand to look at the brightness of the sun grew and so did the frequency of the visits of the man she despised. He would never say anything which she found unnerving, he'd just watch her.

 

When she finally took her first step, a smile erupted on her lips for the first time since she left Starling City. She admired the feeling of her muscles stretching and contracting when she wanted them to.

 

The happiness didn’t last long.

 

At first, her strolls around her prison were brief but each day she'd push herself further until she was close to passing out with exhaustion. When she could finally walk around her whole room without stopping for a breath, Slade began talking. It never was about anything significant. Just tiny things - how there was more rain than usual or that she looked like her mother. The latter drove her mad - she didn't wish to be anything like her mother but she didn't tell him that.

 

She never said anything. Until today, when she finally snapped.

 

"Why would you do this to me?" she cried. He remained quiet and continued to stare out of the window.

 

“How could you just inject me with something?!”

 

Her own father drugged her with some serum for god knows what reason. As from one his earlier monologues, she just knew it didn’t quite resemble Mirakuru. Ah the comfort she gained from that.

 

Anger was just constantly by her side when she thought about what her _father_ did. She picked up the only object inside her prison that wasn't her bed.

 

A bedside lamp.

 

She wrenched the cable out of the power socket and with one swift move, threw it the direction of her father's head.

 

She watched it fly.

 

It would have hit him, if he hadn't decided to move in the last second. Contacting the wall, the light bulb shattered to tiny pieces, falling to the floor together with the metal stand.

 

Slade's eyes pierced her skin.

 

After a pregnant pause, his voice filled her cell. "Meghan, I haven't done this to cause you pain."

 

She stilled. _Did he actually believe the words that were leaving his mouth?_

 

"Now that people know you're my daughter-” He sighed. “I need to know that you'll be safe, kid. The serum you've been injected with, gives me that guarantee."

“ Nobody has to know who I am. Hell, you didn’t even recognise me.”

“You did change your surname. They have their ways”

“Who’s they?”

“People like that kid whom you are so intent on defending. People that want me dead.”

“Well you’re not that easy to kill.” He smirked

“But you are.”

“But as I said, they don’t know who I am. I mean, everyone who works for you probably now does know, but I’m sure you have your ways of keeping them quiet. On my side, I can erase everything that could possibly connect me to you. I’m good at that stuff. And viola! There’s no reason for you to keep me here.”

“You can’t go back.”

“But I just sai-”

“I said _no_.”

“You can’t keep me locked up in a room Slade! Drugging me up so you can silence that paranoia reigning in your mind! It’s not _you_! It’s the Mirakuru talking.”

 

He started to laugh.

 

“I can help you but you need to let me go,” she tried again.

“I don’t think so kiddo. I'll get someone to clean it up." he said, before turning to the door.

"No. I don't want anybody coming in here." Felicity said. Slade looked at her one last time before making an exit.

 

She sat down on the floor, placing her head on her knees.

She could feel anger bubbling beneath her skin at the injustice of it all.

 

Turning her attention to where the lamp hit the wall, she was stunned to see that it left a noticeable dent.

She rubbed her eyes and when she half opened them again, her world was obscured by a void of alabaster. The walls were were painted this colour, so unsurprisingly, she quickly decided that it needed a special place on her list of _'most hated things/people'._

 

_Just after Slade. And maybe the lovely Ms. Rochev._

 

It really was an eggshell colour, but alabaster somehow managed to sound a whole lot nicer, so when she said it, she could pretend she was referring to at least something pleasant. And she needed pleasant.

 

Soon after she got comfortable with walking, uncontrollable drowsiness, followed by paralysis and eventually sleep; began to occupy a lot of her time.

 

It wouldn't matter if she was standing, sitting - it'd just happen.

It wasn’t hard to deduce it was the handiwork of the serum. A side effect, he told her.

 

So she was having side effects but the real good stuff remained hiding?

 

Just her luck.

 

Perhaps, in a true superhero fashion, the ‘new abilities’ whatever they were, needed to be triggered by a traumatic event?

 

She was sure she had more than enough of these under her belt.

 

One of her favourite comic book characters, Rogue, had her powers emerge when she kissed the boy she liked, only to find that the romantic gesture drained him of memories and energy, leaving the poor guy in a coma.

 

See? Another reason why her having some serum pulsing in her veins wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

If she had guys she liked go into a coma when she was relatively normal, who knew what she’d be like, once _that thing i_ nside her, truly did take hold?

 

Maybe she should just be kept away from the world.

 

A sigh escaped her lips.

 

Few days ago that sleepiness accounted for her falling onto an edge of a window sill. Few hours later when she woke up, she was wearing a nice split lip.

 

Inside her head, that was good enough reason to want to haul things at her father's head. Yet, he insisted that it would pass after he saw it happen for himself.

 

"Only a small throwback, don't let it distract you from the bigger picture."

 

Obviously he failed to tell her what the bigger picture was. She shook her head. He was very much insane.

 

* * *

 

There was no need for a key as there was no lock only a keypad. He must have done his research; learnt she excelled in IT and if he hadn’t she just told him in their earlier ‘discussion’.

She was one talented hacker and yet he left her with the electronic lock keypad and a broken lamp.

 

She expelled a deep breath. Why did people always underestimate her?

 

There wasn't anything stopping her from having a little look at the technology that was supposed to keep her from walking out. She could bypass the lock by jamming the signal by making it latch onto a cell phone network instead, for long enough to get out, simply by reprogramming it.

 

She waited until it got dark.

 

Lucky for her, she still had light in her room. Using a jagged piece of glass, she made an incision on a brightly red coloured cable, completely severing it and began pressing the buttons she needed .

Few minutes minutes later she was done.

 

She edged towards the door, pressing her right ear to its wooden surface and remained there until she was convinced there was nobody was lurking around.

 

She pushed the door forwards, and gleamed with joy, simultaneously pumping her fist in the air when it burst open.

 

She peeked outside. "Real cosy", she muttered as she stepped into the corridor.

 

In reality, it was anything but. It stretched for about fifteen feet, and with the flooring out white tiles, Felicity couldn't help but think it had a quite clinical feel to it. The tiny window in her room, presented her with a view of miles of empty land with a few scattered yew trees. Further to the east, she could make out a couple of evergreens that eventually turned to a patch of forest, so in the midst of a nowhere she hardly thought she'd see a building with high ceilings and a hospital atmosphere tangled together.

 

Her footsteps were barely audible, thanks to the thin material covering her feet - the socks would be wonderful if she ever got as far as the forest. She shuddered when she thought of the damp slipping in through the cotton, eventually making her feet so cold she'd lose sensation. She turned right, onto the same looking corridor.

 

Why couldn't they ever bother with decorations?

* * *

 

She quietly slipped through the unlocked door. It was a supply room. Bottles of volatile chemicals stacked the shelves, but she had her eyes out for a clear, aqueous solution of adrenaline. If she was to get away, she needed to stay awake.

 

A couple of minutes into browsing through names of bottles she couldn't pronounce, she found what she was looking for. She hoped it would be small enough to fit in the pocket of her cardigan but the huge needle that came with it, made things somewhat harder. Eventually, she managed to squeeze it into her trousers' pocket with the tip hidden away by her blouse.

 

She peeked outside the narrow window.

 

 

She must have wondered around for longer than she realised. That didn't leave her long to find a way out. She was guessing that she was on the second floor, about twenty feet above ground. Even if she did find an unlocked window in the next array of rooms down the hallway, she doubted a jump from that height would not severely incapacitate her, thus ruining any plan of escape.

 

Whispers down the hall made her however reconsider.

 

She took off her cardigan and wrapped it around her clenched fist, and before she could change her mind, plunged it forward, breaking the barrier that was keeping her away from her freedom.

She repeated the action a few times before she knocked out enough glass, for her body to fit through.

 

Her heart pounded as she climbed up to the edge of the window. The frame was narrow and the uneven edges of the broken glass, teared the skin on her arms. She tried to squeeze through it faster, as the echo of several pairs of footsteps grew louder.

When the ghastly wind hit her, her skin erupted in goosebumps. Looking down, she was slightly comforted by the fact that there was grass rather than concrete, but not to the extent to stop her body from trembling.

 

She closed her eyes.  She told herself now or never and plunged herself forward.

 

As she was falling she realised that maybe she should curl her legs up to prevent too much damage to her ankle joints and all the small bones in her feet.

 

The air surged past her falling form, her stomach in knots.

 

She aimed to fall on to her side so the shock of the impact would spread all over her body.

 

Hitting the ground, she rolled sideways, wind knocked out of her. She struggled to gasp for air.

 

After a few seconds she dared to open her eyes.

Felicity looked down at her body and sighed in relief when she saw no bones sticking out. Maybe her friends weren't as sane as she believed them to be; how could they choose to jump from buildings as a form of pastime to relax?

 

She groaned as she stood up, sure her ribs were bruised. Still, that was better than she imagined; at least she was still breathing.

* * *

 

The concoction of sounds buzzed through her ears. Being a city girl, most of them were unrecognizable but there were a few she thought she could tell to whom they belonged to. The chirping of crickets or the far off cries of crows were her sole companions as she marched through the turf. After an hour or so it started. Every couple of minutes ,a black windscreen would cover her vision, before disappearing and she would stumble. She took a deep breath to calm down her rattled nerves.

She was terrified of needles, which was stupid considering all the things she has been through. Still, she needed a moment to collect herself and steady the rapid heartbeat that rose each time she looked down on the pointy end.

She filled the syringe that somehow withstood the impact of her fall.

_3-2-1..._

She plunged the needle deep into her thigh.

"Arrrrrggghhhh!" she screamed.

So much for keeping a low profile.

 

She walked for the whole day. With no soles to shield her feet from broken branches and sharp edges of pebbles, her feet turned into a mess of blisters and blood, significantly slowing her down. Masses of mosquitos whizzed past her face. She lost count of how many she killed, but the constant slapping of her arms in order to squash the blood suckers was leaving her quite frustrated.

 

Did they have mosquitos on the island? She scrunched her face at the thought of spending five, tremendously long years with bugs. Any bugs. She had real praise for Oliver for not going mad.

 

The adrenaline surging through her bloodstream prevented her from collapsing back then alright, but it just pushed the fog of sleep to a far off side of her brain, and she could feel it starting to become more prominent with every step she took.

 

She wiped the sweat off her forehead.

 

With darkness threatening to soon loom down, she turned to examine the forest scenery for a safe spot to reside in for the night. Nothing looked too inviting, but having walked miles, she was too tired to be picky and eventually laid down on green moss by a trunk of a tree. Bushes surrounded the area, and as she was falling asleep, she wondered if it'll be enough to keep her safe from the forest's more vicious denizens.

 

Probably not, she pondered just before sleep captured her into a web of dreams.

* * *

 

She awoke with a bolt.

 

Felicity wildly glanced around, trying to orientate herself to her surroundings. It took her a moment to realise she was, well, as safe as she could be and completely drenched in sweat.

Gross, definitely could do with a shower. Somewhat groggy and with a foul taste in her mouth she decided to trudge forward.

 

When the sun was at it's highest above the horizon, the wilderness came to an abrupt halt.

 

A road.

 

She screamed in delight. Finally she was close to finding a way back into civilisation; she was thirsty and hungry and desperately in need of a phone. She hoped she'd soon be hearing Oliver's voice telling her he'd be coming to get her.

 

She knew what going back meant. She'd be endangering them all but she had a tiny glimpse of hope that they'd forgive her for her selfishness.

 

Felicity followed the road's path, the asphalt being a welcome change for her tired feet.

After an hour or so, she caught a sight of an outline of a building in the far off distance. She conquered that half a mile in a run, or something that was supposed to be a run. Her laboured breathing did little to stop the pain radiating from her bruised ribs.

 

'Clydesdale Breeders of the U.S.A.', she read.

 

Just as she rounded a corner to enter the car park, which separated her from the reception, a black car she knew too well fishtailed around.

 

It skidding to a stop, centimetres away from her feet.

 

How foolish of her to think she could get away.

* * *

 

He gripped her upper arms with inhuman force, shoving her to a room. A much more smaller room and this time with no windows. Her body bounced off the concrete wall, leaving her crumbled on the floor. For a moment she almost believed a look of regret flashed across his face, but whatever it really was, it was gone before she could examine it properly.

 

The next day, she asked him if she could write a letter, her one last contact with the world she left behind.

 

'No tricks', he warned.

* * *

 

_Oliver,_

_I want to think that you don't condemn my decision, but I know you better than that. I'm sorry for the four times towards the end that I told you nothing would change._

_I guess I was wrong. Andrew Forster wrote about horses when reminiscing the old way of life, but I'm terrible with imagery, so I'll put it plainly as it's my second attempt already and clearly I was never born a writer. So whatever you must think, please know that the time I spent with You and the team, meant a world to me. It'll forever stay as one of the most fondest memories, but it was time I moved on. Be safe Oliver and try to forget me._

_F. Smoak._

Diggle read it again.

"So what you're saying is that you never had the conversation about things not changing?" he probed.

"Yes."

'Sara, find who the hell is the Forster guy."

After a few clicks, Sara answered, "A poet. She must have been referring to his work titled 'the horse whisperer. Here." she moved to the side, letting the boys see the screen.

_They shouted for me_

_when their horses snorted, when restless_

_hooves traced circles in the earth_

_and shimmering muscles refused the plough._

_My secret was a spongy tissue, pulled bloody_

_from the mouth of a just-born foal,_

_scented with rosemary, cinnamon,_

_a charm to draw the tender giants_

_to my hands._

_They shouted for me_

_when their horses reared at the burning straw_

_and eyes revolved in stately heads._

_I would pull a frog's wishbone,_

_tainted by meat, from a puch,_

_a new fear to fight the fear of fire,_

_so I could lead the horses,_

_like helpless_

_children, to safety._

_I swore I would protect_

_this legacy of whispers_

_but the tractor came over the fields_

_like a warning. I was the life-blood_

_no longer. From pulpits_

_I was scorned as a demon and witch._

_Pitchforks drove me from villages and farms._

_My gifts were the tools of revenge._

_A foul hex above a stable door_

_so a trusted stallion could be ridden_

_no more. Then I joined the stampede,_

_with others of my kind,_

_to countries far from our trade._

_Still I miss them. Shire, Clydesdale, Suffolk._

_The searing breath, glistening veins,_

_steady tread and the pride._

"Is there any way she was trying to send us a message using that?" asked Oliver, pointing at the text.

"It's a possibility." the ex-military answered. He scrunched his forehead in concentration.

"So we're certain about the second sentence being odd." Diggle paused. "Can someone read it again?"

'I'm sorry for the four times towards the end that I told you nothing would change.'

"Four times towards the end." Diggle repeated. "Sara, read out the fourth last line of the poem."

"Still I miss them. Shire, Clydesdale, Suffolk."

"Okay, good. Is there anything else in the letter that sounded off?" asked John.

"Yeah, the whole thing about being terrible with imagery and not born a writer. We all know Felicity has a way with words." stated Oliver.

"Let me read it out.. 'Andrew Forster wrote about horses when reminiscing the old way of life, but I'm terrible with imagery, so I'll put it plainly as it's my second attempt already and clearly I was never born a writer.' "

"Second". said Diggle

"What?"

"She mentions numbers again."

"Not enough to show a geographical location" said Sara

"Try the second line from the poem." said Oliver.

"when their horses snorted, when restless"

Sara sighed. "That doesn't sound like anything."

"What about second from the bottom?"

"The searing breath, glistening veins."

"Perhaps the 'second' is referring to something else" tried Diggle.

"Wait, the other line - it mentions names, doesn't it?" said Oliver.

"Shire, Clydesdale, Suffolk."

"Clydesdale. Was she trying to get us to focus on that?"

"Or not; she said to forget about her." said Oliver, almost growling.

"Sara what do you think?" said Diggle, turning her way. The blond was tapping the keys on her keyboard.

"Clydesdale Breeders of the U.S.A., that's the most significant thing I could find. Unless, she simply likes the breed", Sara said smiling. "Pecatonica, that's where it is - which is about three and half hours away from Startling."

"That's a shot in the dark, but who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before episode 2x20 aired, but can you recall that moment- I'm sure you can, not every day do we have Felicity catching Oliver- when Oliver plunges that syringe into his leg? Well, here the roles got reversed but Felicity still had that look on her. Of utter horror. 
> 
> Poor girl. 
> 
> Anyhow, reviews to me are like arrows to the vigilante and computers to Felicity ;) Do tell what ya think. Constructive criticism is always very much welcome. Considering I'm new to the whole writing thing, I'm probably annoying you guys with a lot - now is your chance to vent xP


	4. Chapter 4

Another one of Slade's muscular puppets, pushed her through the endless maze of dingy corridors. She gave up trying to store to memory the turns after making their eighth, just in the past minute or so. When the guard made a movement to retrieve his keys, she whipped her head around, trying to locate the one person she'd give up anything to see.

She must have stopped in her tracks, as the man brusquely shoved her forward, leaving her to stumble. When she regained her balance, she was met with the sight of Oliver. His back to her, he was looking straight ahead, completely unaware of her presence. He wore a white shirt that did little to hide his body, and as far she could tell, he was unharmed.

She briefly wondered whether he came in his Arrow suit and if so, what happened to it.

As the guard turned to unlock his prison door, Oliver looked up. The man under Slade's orders barely managed to open his mouth to give her the permission to leave his side, when she brushed past him, rushing through the open door and right into Oliver's chest.

His hands tightly wrapped around her, bringing their bodies close together. She could smell sweat and a faint aroma of his soap. When he pushed her body backwards so he could see her eyes, she almost protested.

"Feli-" he began.

"I'm so, so sorry Oliver" she said her voice breaking.

"Shhh, you've got nothing to be sorry about" he said, bringing down his lips to her forehead. The simple gesture managed to sent a bolt of electricity through her, even at a time like this. Collecting her thoughts, she shook her head; she had everything to be sorry about. It was her fault that he was here, stuck in a miniature cell, in Slade's creepy dungeon.

"No, listen to me. I am the one who's sorry, for not finding you earlier and still not managing to get you out now that I have".

"I thought it'd be a good idea to leave", she said, recalling the ultimatum she was given.

"I know." he said. Oliver's eyes darkened as he spoke again. "Are you okay though? Did he do anything to you?"

She gave him a reassuring look. "I am fine, he's just hesitant about me leaving," she muttered, stretching the truth. It wouldn't do him any good if he knew that she'd been injected with something.

"Time's up, lovebirds", the guard's gruff tone interrupted.

"And the rest? Diggle, Sara were they captured?" she rushed the words.

"No, they managed to get away."

She sighed in relief. His fingers brushed hers before they were once again separated.

 

 

 

 

They went over several scenarios before coming to Clydesdale, to the address they figured could be holding some answers. The building turned out empty just as it's non striking exterior suggested; the extensive amount of flower pots seemed too much unlike Slade for it to have been his hiding spot of preference as Roy cared to point out. Thus they extended their search further out, about ten miles radius.

One building in particular caught their attention; an abandoned asylum closed in the sixties when psychiatric care became more privatised. It's location in the centre of a stretch of empty fields with some scattered trees, an image that resembled Raisa's plum pudding, posed a question of how to remain unseen.

Not having much to play with, they waited for nightfall to infiltrate the building when the guards ended their shifts and new ones came to replace them.

An unsuspecting man was easy to get by; a quick blow to the head which rendered them unconscious so they could be dragged to the side of the building secluded of any CCTVs and stripped off their uniform - navy pants, a matching jacket with a hat. Inconspicuous in their new attire; he and the team slipped in through the back doors, each going their own way to find any clues of Felicity's whereabouts.

Things went awry soon enough though, when he heard Sara hiss in pain over the comm. Him, Roy and Diggle rushed to her side only to find Slade already there, his foot propped on Sara's side as she lay sprawled on the floor.

 _"Long time, no see"_  he said, amusement present in his undertone

Oliver closed his eye at the recollection. He should have known something like that would happen. His forehead creased, as for the millionth time he tried to find a purpose that could be steering Slade's plan of action. At first he figured it was revenge but that was obviously side-tracked with the appearance of Felicity or _Meghan_  as he seemed to call her. And he highly doubted it was the awakening of Slade's paternal side that caused them to be in this anyway,  _so what was it?_

When he saw her running in her oversized jumper, he had let out a deep breath releasing the worry that plagued him ever since her disappearance. It was still there, residing in his chest but at least he knew she was alright, as much as she could be in circumstances like these.

Felicity's arms spread as she lunged forward toward him, her body colliding with his.

Instinctively his arms travelled around her tiny form to keep them from toppling to the floor. Oliver pulled them closer; he couldn't help but want for the moment to stretch for longer than he knew they'd be allowed to have.

Oliver's stomach clenched. Her cheekbones have become more prominent since he last saw her and the colorful colour of her lips was replaced by pale, cracked skin.

He gritted his teeth.

They both shouldn't be here.  _She_  shouldn't be here, especially being walked around with an armed guard by her arm.

As she turned her back to him, the grinding of her flats against the floor penetrated his ears, his open palm tingling from her touch.

He sighed.

Thinking about the effect a simple brush of her hand against him wasn't any better. Instead, he turned his eyes back towards the wall, unmercifully scanning it for the hundredth time, as if in search of something that could provide him with an answer of how to escape this place. When he finally got sick of doing that too, he headed towards the metal bars.

"SLADE!" he roared into the empty network of corridors. Silence greeted him in response.

 

 

 

 

When she was brought back to her much bigger than Oliver's prison, Slade was already waiting for her. He lazily brought up his gaze to meet hers and indicated for her to sit down. When she remained unmoving, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I told you I was a man of my word." She huffed at that, but he ignored her. "The kid's unharmed, and will remain as so, a-"

"as long as I do as you say" she said, cutting him off . Did all villains feel obliged to mutter the same, old dialogue?

"I'm glad we understand each other," he said not at all disconcerted by her interruption.

"Scarcely", she said irritated. "I would prefer if you'd just let Oliver go, so you can keep that promise you made me, father." The last word was filled with as much venom as she could muster.

He beamed. "But I have kept it. I haven't touched him, have I kiddo? He came to me"

She growled. Somehow that seemed to please him even more.

" I don't know if you've noticed Meghan, but in the past few weeks you have been having more of a hard time keeping that anger under control?"

"Of course I have, I've been constantly surrounded by your presence."

"Perhaps. Anyhow, it will pair nicely with your newly gained strength."

"What?" she gulped.

"The serum has been slowly making you stronger, not enough for you to suddenly become aware of it, but in time you'll realise."

She sucked in a deep breath as his words registered. She thought back to the dent in the wall she made just by throwing a lamp at it.

"The strength will not be as potent as of one who's been administered Mirakuru, but useful nevertheless."

She was hearing his words as through a fog.

"We'll soon begin your training, but first I need your inhibitions to be lowered. Thus, I have a task for you."

"And if I refuse to do it?" she forced herself to speak.

"Then our mutual friend may encounter some discomfort, not from my hands though," he said pleased with himself. He moved his right leg and placed it on top of his left, before he continued to describe what he would require her to do.

 

** Next day. **

Half bending, with her palms bearing her whole weight and resting against the tiny sink, she pushed herself back until she was fully upright.

A woman with a ghostly complexion and hollow eyes looked back at her.

Turning away from the mirror, she pinched the contact lenses off her eyes. She looked at them in distaste before throwing them away into the litter bin, and reaching out for the solid frame of her glasses. The contacts irritated her eyes but she could hardly do much on days like these without them.

At first look the assignment seemed uncomplicated, especially for a newbie like herself. Approach from distance, strike from behind, make it look like a robbery gone wrong, get rid of evidence and disappear.

Yet, when she stood in front the man she was supposed to target earlier today, all those words she muttered to herself before about just doing what she had to in order to save the man she loves, lost their meaning.

The coolness of the metal loosely held inside her clammy hand, made her nauseous. She tightened her grip on the heft of the gun and pointed it upwards. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

She wasn't a killer.

She lowered the gun, and told the man to get up. Together they walked into his kitchen, from where she grabbed a knife. She handed it to him, and told him to make a deep incision on his leg. She needed the blood and if she got it, he'd be free to go. Leave the country, yes, but very much alive. He gritted his teeth as he pressed the blade to his skin. As the skin teared he looked like he was about to pass out.

But he didn't and she got what she came for.

When she got back, she plodded forward, head held high. The extra weight of the vessel filled with blood tucked into her right pocket and and the gps tracking device attached lower down, made her favour the leg somewhat more affecting her gait.

It didn't take long to find him.

"Well done, you've done well," he said, seemingly proud. "Michael will be assisting you on your next mission."

"What? There wasn't supposed to be a  _next_ mission."

"As we have already discussed, this is part of your training."

"No, it wasn't a discussion, far from it actually. You merely stated and I for some insane reason complied. But no more - I'm not going to be turned into an assassin because you suddenly have an overdue need of protecting me, although even this is a funny way of showing it."

Slade growled and his hands landed on her arms, tightening as he shook her. Her stomach churned in fear.

"You'll be needing to cope with relative ease in situations that involve attacking the enemy and deflecting any attacks from their end, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to learn how." he growled. He took a breath, and continued with more calm 'That's why I'll have  _Michael_  accompany you - he's well trained and should have no trouble sharing his skills, helping you lower your inhibitions"

She tightened her lips and wondered how she'd get out of this one, but Slade didn't feel like like sticking around any longer to listen to her trying to talk him out of his plans. She huffed.  _Old habits die hard where he's concerned._

 

 

 

 

The door opened to reveal a man not much older than her.

"For some reason I thought you'd have dark hair." he said. His voice had a soft, musical quality; quite unfitting to the place.

"I dye it."

"Ah so what's your natural colour?" he questioned.

"I don't think I caught your name."

"I don't think I said it. So?"

" _So_  what?"

"You dodged my question." He noticed.

"Because I don't think it's something you need to know."

"No but I'm curious."  _Did he not give up?_

"Too bad, so you're Michael?"

His arched his brow. "So you do know?"

"I wasn't sure, but you just confirmed it."

He laughed.

"Nice to meet you Felicity." he took out his hand. She ignored it.

"Well I don't think I can say the same thing back."

"Touché"

"So how come you're calling me Felicity, and not Meghan?"

"I just thought you'd prefer it."

She stayed silent for a second. "I do, thanks."

"No problem."

"So why are you here?" she asked.

"I thought Slade explained."

"I don't think 'help to lower your inhibitions.' tells you much"

"No, not really." said Michael.

"Well I'm glad that's settled then."

"He wants me to train you so you know how to attack." he said.

"You mean kill." she straightened.

"Something like that."

She broke the eye contact and looked at the wall behind him.

"So where would you like to start? Shooting range or the sparring mats?"

When she didn't answer, he said "Shooting range it is then, come on."

 

 

 

 

'Hmm.." he said.

"Yeah?"

"Just wondering how you killed a man yesterday, when you have trouble simply loading the weapon." She heard his silvery laugh.

"I was lucky."

"I can tell." He came up closer to her. "It must have been one hell of a luck." he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nevermind. Here, I'll show you." said Michael.

"Be my guest." She handed him the gun. He looked down at it and the mass of black, unruly curls fell on his forehead, reaching his brows. He removed the clip and pulled the slide back, revealing an empty chamber.

"Take the magazine and place it your non-dominant hand."

She did as he instructed.

"The magazine should be positioned in the space between your thumb and your index finger."

"Got it."

"Insert the rounds, one at a time with your other hand. Push firmly with your thumb. Good. Now slide it back until its below the retaining tip. Keep doing that until the magazine's full."

After she was finished, he positioned the gun in her hands.

"Curl your middle, ring and pinky fingers just below the trigger guard." He nodded his head. "Take your other hand to steady the gun."

"Put your feet a width apart. Now lean forward slightly. Yep. Knees bent. "

She felt like she was learning ride her bike for the first time.

"Keep that arm straight."

She let out a frustrated breath. That thing was far heavier than it looked.

"Now you can start aiming at the target."

"Great." After a moment she fired. The bullet hit the outer target of the circle.

Burnt gunpowder tingled her nostrils and a beginning of a smile tugged her lips.

"Not bad."

 

 

 

 

** Two days later. **

She was facing a man in his late forties, clean shaven and in an expensive suit she was got accustomed to seeing at Queen Consolidated.

"Come on Felicity, he killed that little girl. She was seven, only seven and he butchered her like a pig", Michael's voice rang out.

"Stop it." Anger was slowly filling her up.

"Her name was Shauna."

She was shaking, ready to burst any moment. "She pleaded for him to let her go, to let her live" she barely heard him through the blood pulsing through her ears.

She tried to focus on the Armani suit in front of her.

"Do you wanna know what he did to her afterwards?"

"SHUT UP!" she screamed and fired her gun. The bullet went through the man's chest. Surprise registered on his features and before she could count to two, he was dead. Her fingers went slack and the gun fell to the ground. The noise echoed through the building.

_She just killed a man._

The ringing in her ears intensified.

"Felicity, you know what you need to do next." Michael reminded. As through a dream, she got up and walked up to the corpse. With trembling fingers she unbuttoned his jacket, then the shirt until she was facing the bleeding wound. Michael handed her a small container, and she gathered some blood inside.

"Nice one," he whispered.

 

 

 

 

Unblinking, he watched the entire fiasco play out in the nine by five feet projector screen, only his clenched fists indicating he wasn't enjoying the spectacle.

"So what do you think, Oliver? Quite my blood, huh?"

He turned ninety degrees to face Slade's sneering expression, and before the latter could react, Oliver's fists flew into the man's face, sending him flying across the room. He fell into a metal chair with a clang, still grinning.

"Is that all you can do boy?"

Oliver launched himself forward just as the dark haired man got up, catching his shoulders and flipped both of them to the ground. From there he placed his bare hands on Slade's windpipe and squeezed. Slade threw his fist in his stomach in retaliation. Oliver grunted in pain but didn't let go. Slade repeated the action and he fell to the ground. After a minute he shakily got up.

"You'll pay for this Slade" Both of them knew he didn't mean his bruised body.

"And how do you propose will that happen?"

"You'll know when the time comes."

Slade's laugh carried through the building.

 

 

 

 

 

Diggle had been watching the building for a week now. Seven days could tell you a lot about a man, even if he never saw him in person only his people. On day three, he saw Felicity. It felt like a dead weight was lifted off his lungs and he could finally breathe. At first he couldn't believe his eyes; she was unharmed and walking out by herself or so it seemed. Unbeknown to Felicity, a shield of armed men were keeping close tabs on her. There were too many for him to take even if he had Sara and Roy by his side.

He had to wait.

Couple of days later he saw her again. This time she was walking with a man by her side. He ran a face recognition programme once he managed to get a decent shot of his face but it came up empty.

He rubbed his temples in defeat. They weren't making any progress and two of his friends continued to remain too far from home for his liking.

That day he went home earlier than usual; Lyla gave him a surprised smile and for once they ate their takeout dinner together.

Later that night, he sat on his couch staring at the photo of the guy in whose company Felicity was seen.

"John, come to bed." Lyla's head popped out of their bedroom.

"In a second."

"You've been at it for hours." she said leaning on the door frame.

" It's been days and all I've got is a face with no name. We're not closer to getting them out than when we first began"

The brunette sat down next to him, leaning in close

"You'll get there in the end, John. You always do."

"This is time it's different. You know what Slade's like. "

When Lyla remained quiet, he shifted his head to look at her. She was facing his laptop screen, her brows furrowed.

"You know that man?"

"He works for us. He's in the suicide squad."

"What?"

"His name is Michael DeViso. Twenty-eight. Has been with us for the past two years."

"Then what the hell is he doing in Slade's headquarters?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know he was out in the field."

Diggle got up and grabbed his jacket.

"You're going to talk to Amanda, aren't you?"

"Damn right I am."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Diggle shook his head. "No, but I appreciate the offer." He gave a her a quick kiss on the cheek ."I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Bye John." And with that the door slammed shut.

 

 

 

 

 

Beads of sweat lazily rolled down her trembling body. She imagined that if she was to glance at her reflection, the image which would stare back would not be any different to the one she'd see after stepping out a shower. Only it would. She wasn't just trembling from pure exhaustion, but because she just lost a part of herself, a part that was the only thread that linked her to the person she was before she was reunited with her father.

She had run so hard the corners of her vision began to fade to black, and her chest rose and fell as she gulped for air just like the swordtail fish she once had, the one that one day decided to jump out it's pond and slowly roast in the sun, so when she found it, it's breathing was nothing but mere rasps. The fish was gasping for water and her body for her to slow down. Instead, she only went faster.

She pushed herself until she could go no further and collapsed onto an evening dew grass.

Everyone has a bit of evil in them, she wasn't naive enough to think otherwise. She also knew everybody has the power to push it back and create a better version of themselves. A little effort could go a long way.

Yet try she might, what Slade was making her was ultimately destroying any chance of redemption she might have and creating a killer. If she let the darkness in, it would never come out, that she was sure.

"Monster", the word rolled off her tongue.


End file.
